


Three Times Katara Hugged Zuko

by bagginsly



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Hugs, Hurt, Katara doesn’t hate Zuko anymore lol, Mental Breakdown, Newfound trust, Post-War, Sozin's Comet, Support, the southern raiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagginsly/pseuds/bagginsly
Summary: ...and one time she didn't.•••She sees Yon Rha cowering in the mud, distantly aware of the strange weariness that has taken ahold of her body.Tired. She’s just so, so tired.





	1. The First Time

_Cold_.

It’s how she feels when she lets those ice spears fall from the sky, splashing against the muddy ground in a melancholy cascade.

She sees Yon Rha cowering in the mud, distantly aware of the strange weariness that has taken ahold of her body.

Tired. She’s just so, _so_ tired.

Zuko doesn’t say a word as they walk back to Appa, as she turns her back to her mother’s murderer. She can feel the weight of his concerned stare grow with each minute they spend in stiff silence, but she can’t bring herself to say something.

She wants to. She really, really wants to.

But her lips are frozen, as cold as those icy spears had been, and the strange emptiness she feels seems to rob her of her voice.

Zuko finally breaks the silence when they reach Appa. “Katara?” he asks, and his voice is so painstakingly concerned that it causes her to stop in her tracks. It baffles her to think that this boy, the one she’s hated for so, so long, has somehow managed to worm his way onto her good side again. “Are you... okay?”

Had it been any other day, she would have laughed at his endearingly awkward demeanor. But in the moment present, she can’t even bring herself to do so much as snort.

Such a hollow, hollow thing, this feeling inside of her. Perhaps it has always been there, buried by the years following her mother’s death.

She feels Zuko’s amber eyes on her back as he steps closer, the torrent of rain a dull roar in her ears. “Katara,” he murmurs again, and he gently grabs her hand, unfurling her tightly clenched fingers tenderly.

She hadn’t even realized she was clenching her hands. Four bloody half-moons emerge on the tanned skin of each of her palms, ragged holes left behind by her merciless fingernails. The sight of blood seems to snap her out of her daze, and with a jolt she turns to look at the firebender, tears in her eyes.

The grief and rage and sadness she’s been suppressing finally boils over. Her vision blurs, and Katara knows that it’s not because of the pouring rain. She clutches Zuko’s hand desperately, frantically, as if he too might leave her, just like her mother had.

Like her father.

Like her sanity in these past few hours.

And then, her voice finally emerges. It’s a strangled, pathetic sound that drowns out the din of rainpour, of her frantically beating heart.

“He- he killed…” A shaking sob. “He killed her and I couldn’t-” Katara chokes on the words, hot shame roiling through her for exposing such vulnerability to a boy she hardly knows, hardly likes-

That’s wrong. She _does_ like him (though she likely wouldn’t say such a thing out loud), and after everything he’s done for her in the past few days, he’s more than earned her trust.

And thank the gods above, he doesn’t look at her with the exasperation or pity she was expecting.

“I understand,” he whispers instead, and the sharp planes of his face are hewed in quiet agony. “Believe me, I understand.”

She knows he does. For some stretch of time, they remain staring at each other, his hand still gently laced within her own.

And in that moment, as the rain cascades around them, she’s overcome with an impulsive urge.

 _Warm_.

It’s how his body feels when she hugs him, her slender fingers weaving their way around the slip of his neck in a sudden, desperate motion. She feels Zuko’s surprise- it’s in the way he slightly jolts underneath the weight of her embrace, in the way those amber eyes simmering with golden fire widen in tentative shock.

Then his arms wrap around her waist.

And oh, the warmth that envelops her as his hands move to rest against the base of her back. It's a heavy sensation that limns her weary bones, flows in tendrils of flame amidst the blood she can so easily bend. Although she’d expect nothing less from a firebender, she must admit that she's never quite imagined that his arms would be so comforting, his touch so reassuring.

But then again, she's never quite imagined herself hugging him in the first place.

And with that thought, she tucks her face into the deep black fabric of his tunic, inhaling the scent of smoke and sparks and strength, and lets herself enjoy the warmth that he offers- lets it stifle the cold, hollow feeling Yon Rha left in her heart.

At the thought of her mother’s killer, her fists clench again, shafts of fabric frantically bundling between her fingers.

“Katara,” Zuko murmurs gently, and the sound of her name on his lips soothes her, grounds her. She blinks the wetness from her eyes, wanting to bend the tears away but unwilling to loosen her grip on the very thing anchoring her to sanity. “Katara,” he whispers again, and again, and she wonders if their embrace is for his benefit as much as it is for her own.

Whatever it may be, she just knows that it’s warm, and that it drives away the memory of wickedly beautiful ice fractals and Yon Rha’s cold, dead soul.

They remain like that for a few moments longer, until Katara’s breath has evened out and her tears have dried. Until she realizes that she’s likely overstepped herself, especially considering how she threatened to kill him only days before.

She reluctantly pulls her arms back to her sides, cheeks flaming. Her eyes meet his for a fraction of a moment before she smiles smally and brushes past him, feeling the warmth in her body fade away with each step she takes.

The ride back to the island is a quiet one, and despite his protests, Katara urges Zuko to rest while she mans Appa. Now, a few hours into their journey, she looks over her shoulder to where he lies on the damp saddle, asleep and at peace.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and she turns back to face the yawning sky, rubbing Appa’s neck as she steers them to land.

With her back to the saddle, she doesn’t see Zuko smile.

 


	2. The Second Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy this chapter :) I ultimately decided to make this a series of oneshots bc I can’t get enough of writing zutara

  
_Don’t worry, we can take Azula,_ she had told Zuko a few hours ago.

He had looked away from her, eyebrows knitted, before he spoke. _I’m not worried about her. I’m worried about Aang._

  
And although she knew that his concern for Aang was undoubtedly genuine, she couldn’t help but think that his indifference towards Azula was anything but.

Her theory is eventually proven correct.

“Katara?” he asks her as they’re flying to the Fire Nation, the quiet rasp of his voice almost lost in the wind. “Are you afraid?”

Katara blanches, looking up from where she sits in the saddle to peer at the prince. He sits across from her, resting an elbow on a propped knee. They’d taken a break from manning the reins a few minutes ago, deeming Appa able to make the last stretch of their journey without their guidance. “What makes you ask that?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

He lets out a ragged sigh, whorls of flame emerging between his lips. It fascinates her, his bending. For all her life, fire was the element of destruction. Of pain and death and suffering.

Now, as she watches the golden orange flames dissipate into the summer sky, she can’t help but think it beautiful- can’t help but think of energy and _life_.

“It’s just…” he trails off, eyebrows knitting together, and Katara remains quiet. “It’s just that, if I lose to Azula… if I die–”

“Zuko.” Her voice comes out strangled. Horrified.

He closes his eyes, his dark eyelashes painting haunted shadows on the skin of his cheekbones. “I can’t help but wonder what will happen if she wins. She’s always been the better bender, the favored heir.” He snorts, but it’s completely void of humor. “And…” He opens his eyes, and Katara’s heart breaks a little at the pained anguish in his gaze. “I’m afraid. I’m so afraid, Katara.” He rakes a hand through the ragged ends of his hair and laughs humorlessly. “So… so afraid. I lied to you earlier. I _am_ worried about her.”

She quietly watches him, this haunted prince of fire, and wonders just how long he’s kept those words bottled inside of him.

“You said that we could take Azula,” he continues, fisting the fabric of his maroon tunic in one hand, “but I can’t help but think that’s not true.”

Katara crawls over to where he sits on the other side of her saddle, aware of Zuko taking in her every movement. He goes somewhat still in the way he watches her, as if he can only see _her_ and nothing else- not even the sunset, which paints whirling strokes of magenta and auburn against the clouds, against the red scar he once so passionately hated.

It’s one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen- the sunset, of course.

Her right arm brushes his left as she settles herself next to him, as she absentmindedly bends water out of the flask at her waist. It’s become sort of a nervous habit of hers to bend when she’s fidgety, and she looks down at her lap as her fingers weave the tendril of water around her wrist. “Azula… she’s strong,” Katara concedes bluntly, bending the water across the knuckles of her left hand. Sozin’s comet glows in the distance, illuminating the sea below in glittering golden fractals. She nervously looks up to meet his gaze. “But you’re stronger. I just know it.”

He smiles wryly, the ends of his mouth turning upwards. “Oh? And how do you know that?” While his tone is slightly amused, Katara can tell he genuinely wants to know the answer.

“When I first met you, Zuko,” Katara breathes, her blue eyes focusing back on the water, “you were consumed by rage. Obsessed with the idea of regaining your honor, and viewing Aang as the pathway to do so.” The water winds its way up to her elbow, and she watches it glitter in the sunset. “Whenever you dueled Azula in the past, you were that person. So full of rage, of grief.”

She looks back up to him, and his eyes don’t leave hers for a second. Katara clears her throat. “You know you aren’t that same person anymore.” She morphs the water into the shape of a flame and freezes it, letting the mini ice sculpture float above her hand. “ _I_ know you aren’t that same person anymore.”

Zuko raises his left hand next to her right, palm upward. A little flame sparks to life over his pale skin, the real version of her icy sculpture.

“You’re not defined by your past,” she continues, “and it’s okay to be afraid. I won’t even deny that I’m a little scared too. But you’re more than ready for whatever you face.”

He stares at her a moment longer, a small, strangely tender smile on his face. “You really think so?”

“Without question. Plus, you’ll have me.” Katara smirks and punches his arm with her free hand. “Azula won’t know what hit her.”

“Ow!” he exclaims, extinguishing the flame and rubbing his newly sore bicep with a scowl. “What was that for?”

She laughs, throwing an arm around his shoulder before she can think about what she’s doing, and suddenly she’s hugging him. Well, half-hugging him. Her miniature ice flame falls to the saddle with a _thump_ , forgotten, and he freezes against her arm.

Oh, Yue save her.

“To give you a taste of what Azula’s about to get,” she responds breathlessly, trying to ignore the slightly stunned look on his face and silently praying that she didn’t cross whatever line lies between them. She lets out an immense sigh of relief when she feels his arm go around her own shoulder, returning the embrace. Every fiber of her being hones in on that point of contact, on the weight of his hand resting against her skin.

With a shake of her head, she shoves such thoughts out of her mind, berating herself for acting so childish- especially when such an important battle lies ahead. “Now come on, your highness,” she says with a forced smug smile, “Let’s kick some royal ass.”

“Not mine, hopefully.” He’s laughing, either oblivious or indifferent to her awkward demeanor, and Katara doesn’t know if she’s ever heard him do that before. She wishes he had- perhaps she’d have forgiven him sooner.

Her smile grows at the thought, and they remain half-hugging each other for a few blissful moments, letting the other’s presence and touch balm their growing nerves. However, it comes to an end when Zuko looks over the edge of the saddle.

He immediately releases his hand from her shoulder, and Katara tries her best to stifle the strange sense of longing that follows his withdrawal from the hug. “We’re almost there,” he mutters, his smile falling slightly, and when Katara looks down she’s greeted with the sight of brilliant red shingles and warmly lit streets.

Caldera.

They’re here.

The sheer amount of luxury and opulence makes her blanch, and she quickly shuffles her way to the reins as Appa groans in warning. “Yeah, buddy,” she mutters, setting herself down on the bison’s fur, “I don’t like this place either.”

“I’ll second that,” Zuko adds, and she looks over her shoulder to where he sits on the saddle, bearing an expression of nothing but fierce determination. He reaches down to pick up her discarded ice sculpture, and she melts it and bends it back into her flask.

When his eyes meet hers, she nods- just the barest dip of her chin- and smiles. “Let’s do this.”

And as she steers Appa to the palace, his returning grin is nothing short of beautifully wicked.


	3. The Third Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU of the aftermath of Zuko and Azula’s agni kai. sorry for the delay, hope you all enjoy it :)

A strange sort of lethargy seems to envelop Katara’s bones when she rushes to where Zuko’s limp body lies. The exposed skin of his chest is marred by a charred red blotch, branded and seared onto his muscled body.

The only thing about him that moves are his lips, and even through her tears she can make out what he’s mouthing.

 _Katara_.

He breathes it over and over again, almost like a prayer, and she crashes to her knees when she reaches him, water already bent to her palms. 

Azula shrieks against her chains in the distance, the sound echoing across the otherwise empty agni kai arena, drifting away into the unforgiving twilight sky.

Katara’s hands are upon his chest in an instant, and the familiar glow of her healing power brightens the air around them. “ _Please_ ,” she cries desperately, forcing herself to concentrate on mending the ruined nerves and muscle tissue and skin below her fingertips. She doesn’t even know who she’s pleading to as she chokes out another sob. “ _Please_.”

As she mends his ruined chest, her eyes drift up to his face, so awfully twisted with pain. He meets her gaze through the agony, reaching out a lurching hand to grip her forearm, and lets out a small grunt as her hands reach the most heavily damaged part of the wound: a small, blackened patch of skin right above his heart.  
  
Tears are streaming down his face, down her own, and the water at her fingers glows brighter and brighter as she pours the last of her strength into the healing. She feels the sinewy tissue mend itself back together, feels the water regenerate the red blotches peppering his skin.

“ _Please_.”

_Let my friend live._

For that’s what he has become: a friend. Someone who has seen her at her worst and still stood by her side, someone who has shouldered the burdens she can’t bear to carry alone.

And now here he is, on the verge of death, and Katara will be damned to let this cruel, cruel world take him away.

With a strained cry, Katara closes her eyes and heaves all of the lingering energy in her body out of her fingertips and towards Zuko’s wound. The water grows brighter, and effervescent blue light floods through her cracked eyelids.

But just as fast as that lightning had shot from Azula’s fingertips, the glowing around Katara’s hands ceases.

The water, free from her control, falls to the ground with a splash, and then the only thing Katara can hear is her own ragged panting and Azula’s chains ominously rattling in the distance.

His chest has stopped moving entirely.

“No,” she breathes, scrambling to bend the water off of the ground. “No, no, no.”

The water streams across his chest as she bends, but unlike before, it doesn’t glow. No amount of brilliant light bursts from its depths.

Katara remembers from her lessons in the North Pole that a lack of light only can mean one thing: that there is nothing left to heal.

In denial, she tries again, her movements distressed and jerky. The water cuts across the reddened skin, splashes against the torn fabric of his tunic.

When it finally begins to dawn on her that nothing has happened - that nothing is going to happen - she freezes.

So does the water.

Hundreds of ragged ice fractals - sloppily made in her emerging despair - burst across the arena, shattering against the ground, the walls, the columns- a physical embodiment of her rage.

Rage, because Zuko was shot by lightning to save her.

And right now, it’s looking like she won’t ever be able to return the favor.

 _Fine_ , she thinks, gritting her teeth. _If my bending can’t save him, I will._

Her hands press down on his chest- over and over and over- hoping to force a heartbeat back into his heart, to force breath back into his stupid, too-still lungs.

“Wake up.”

She pushes again.

“ _Wake_.” Push. “ _Up_.” Push.

And then she’s crying harder, yelling louder, and the world is spinning and she can’t process anything, anything beyond his lifeless chest and the fact that _she failed him_ -

But then, like a blade cutting through the hazy din of sounds around her, his voice emerges.

“Katara,” he murmurs, and her eyes snap open immediately, wildly, searching for his golden pupils in a somewhat frenzied craze.

He’s staring at her, his gaze so heartbreakingly tender, so full of - _wonder_? - and he raises his hand to pull a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

His arm’s no longer shaking, and _his chest_ \- it’s rising, and falling, and although it’s a little shaky Katara couldn’t care less because _he’s here_ and _he’s alive._

And in that moment, like a cliche from one of Gran-Gran’s bonfire love stories -  _Not_   _that this is a love story_ , Katara berates herself - all else fades away save for the two of them: him, with his fingers brushing the winter-worn skin of her cheekbone, and her, knees digging into the ground as tears of joy spring to her eyes.

Katara lets out a strained sound, half a sob and half a relieved laugh, distantly aware of his hand moving to cup her cheek as he speaks again.

“ _Thank you._ ”

And with a grunt and a wince, he pulls himself up and hugs her.

He clutches onto her solidly, as if she’s the only lifeline he has to this world, as if she might leave him at any moment. And while she may be the former, she’s certainly not the latter. She laughs through her tears, burying her face into the crook of his neck, and wildly wraps her arms around the broad plane of his shoulders, a watery smile growing on her face.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” she says, and she doesn’t know how long they stay entwined after the words leave her mouth, because all she can think about is that _he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive._

And when she mutters those words aloud to herself - whether it be in awe or just to assure herself of its truth, she doesn’t know - he laughs weakly, pulling back to look her in the eye. “I think you know by now that it takes a lot to get rid of me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He scowls, his eyebrows scrunching adorably, but there’s a smile growing on his face and it’s just as radiant as the fire he so easily bends. “You don’t mean that.”

Katara tightens the embrace, shaking her head, and her next words are soft. “You know I don’t.”

 


	4. ...The One Time

Katara tries to act normal as she can in the following days, but considering how she has lived a life completely devoid of  _ normal _ , it’s... hard.

Some nights she’ll dream that Zuko died that evening. She’ll wake up tearing at the sheets, hardly able to breathe, before she forces herself to stay up the rest of the night to avoid another similar nightmare.

When the sun finally rises each morning, she’ll trudge out of bed with two heavy bags under her eyes. She’s gotten to the point where she actively tries to avoid the rest of the gang– she doesn’t want their concern, and she thinks that time enough will heal her wounds, but more importantly she doesn’t want to see… Zuko. As selfish as it might be, she doesn’t understand the strange longing feeling she gets whenever she thinks of him, doesn’t comprehend why she can’t seem to get him– a  _ friend _ , she tells herself adamantly– out of her head. She conveniently avoids the butterflies in her stomach. 

He’s busy enough as it is, anyways. He’s Fire Lord now.

So she’ll smile at him in passing, and he’ll do the same, but it feels forced, and by the strange glint in his eye she knows Zuko can detect something is up. But before he can say anything, he’s always swept up in a sea of advisors or attendants. She desperately wants to ask him how he’s handling his new position and how he feels about it and if there’s anything she can do– but she can’t. The last thing Katara wants is to burden a person as busy as him with her presence, as well as unreciprocated feelings.

By the time Zuko’s coronation celebration comes around, she hasn’t talked to him for days– not because she doesn't want to of course, but because she thinks she might implode if she were to see him, and that would make for a bizarre occurrence to go down in the Fire Nation history books.

So Katara smiles through the aching feeling in her chest for the entirety of his celebration, watching from where she stands near the veranda as Zuko—Fire Lord Zuko—drifts about the ballroom, occasionally talking to a few of his guests, an entourage of soldiers trailing in his footsteps.

It’s strange to see him in a setting like this, and she can tell by the strained look on his face that it must be strange for him too. He’s been transformed from traitor prince to benevolent ruler in a matter of days; from cursed to worshipped in seconds. 

Sometimes she thinks he's looking at her, but when she turns to check for herself she finds that he's engrossed in conversation with some Earth Kingdom noble, or Northern Water Tribe warrior, and even sometimes a few of the gang— usually Sokka, who laughs at the gaudy robes that Zuko’s donned for the evening.

Zuko just scowls in response; at least nothing’s changed in that regard. 

She's so busy debating whether or not to approach him that she doesn't even see Toph approach  _ her _ from the other side of the ballroom, a strut in her step and Aang following closely behind. By the time Katara notices them, it's too late. The little earth bender has her cornered against the wall with a strangely malicious smile on her face in a matter of moments.

“What’s up, Sugar Queen?” Toph asks, a faux innocent lilt to her voice as she shovels a fireflake into her mouth. She holds a small box of the snack in her hand, and red crumbs litter the collar of her dress. It’s just so  _ Toph _ that in any other moment, Katara would have laughed. “You seem kind of antsy tonight, huh?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Katara rolls her eyes, attempting to sidestep the blind girl, but Aang maneuvers in front of her with an apologetically sheepish grin on his face. 

“You know Toph can tell when you’re lying.”

Katara stares at him blankly, idly fiddling with the silken end of her right sleeve, and Aang shifts awkwardly on his feet.

“...and you’re lying, Katara.”

“Aang–”

“ _ Li _ - _ ar _ ,” Toph sings, and Katara sighs frustratedly, cursing the god of self-righteous preteens (if there is one) as she finally snaps.

“Okay, okay, whatever! I’m lying! What do you both want?”

The earthbender smiles smugly to herself in victory. “Well, first off, I want to know what’s up with you.”

“Noth–”

“And don’t you  _ dare  _ tell me it’s nothing.”

If Toph could see, Katara would’ve called what ensued a staring contest. “Toph, I’m serious.”

“I am too.” The younger girl’s features soften marginally, and something akin to– _ worry _ ?– permeates her voice. If Katara weren’t so touched, she would’ve thought she was dreaming. “You’ve been acting weird lately. You leave group meals as quick as you come to them, and I rarely see you anymore.”

Aang, who seems to have matured almost ten years in just the past ten days, watches her carefully. “Are you avoiding us?” 

Katara’s mouthy hangs agape, a rush of guilt surging in her veins. In her quest for solitude, she sort of forgot about her friends.

Toph continues, “You'd think now that Aang’s saved the world–” Aang smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “–you’d be happier. But… you’re not?”

“I— it's complicated, Toph,” Katara mutters dejectedly, fiddling with the loops in her hair. “I hadn't realized I was shutting you all out like that though. I'm sorry.”

The younger girl seems to pause before she considers her next question. “Does it have to do with Sparky?”

“What?” Katara blanches innocently, spine straightening immediately. “What makes you say that?”

Both Aang and Toph snort. “You are  _ such _ a bad liar it's not even funny, Sugar Queen,” Toph says, but her face quickly sobers when Katara remains distressfully silent. When the earthbender speaks again her next words are decidedly softer. “Talk to him, Katara. He's been wanting to talk to you lately but you’ve been so hell-bent on avoiding him that he can’t.” She places her empty box of fire flakes on a passing servant’s tray, subsequently wiping her dusted red fingers on the front of her skirt. 

Katara glances at Aang, but she finds the Avatar smiling at her softly, a look of understanding on his face. “Seriously. Talk to Zuko,” he says sincerely. “It’ll help you both.”

She raises an eyebrow, but there’s no ambivalence in his words. They’re only friends; she told him as much when he tried to kiss her at the Ember Island Players, and sometimes she really does wish she loved him in the way he loved her– but she just doesn’t. He seems to understand now, though, if the look in his eyes speaks for anything.

As she struggles to find a response, she hears a voice from behind her.

“Hey guys.”

Katara whirls around to come face to face with none other than the newly crowned Fire Lord himself. He's always had a regal disposition—Katara supposes that’s just a product of being born royal—but it now seems as if that disposition has been amplified. His dark maroon robes and golden headpiece cut him a striking figure in the warm glow of the ballroom, and he’s looking at her tentatively, as if… unsure of himself?

The three of them bow respectfully, and Katara seizes the moment to calm the surge of nervousness rushing through her veins.

He smiles wryly. “No need for bowing,” he says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “You guys are my friends. It’s a little weird.” 

“Good, because I wasn’t about to keep that up,” Toph snorts, surging forward to hug (tackle) the older boy. His personal guards, having grown accustomed to the young earthbender’s antics over the past few days, watch with wary smiles. “I was beginning to wonder if you thought you were too good for us now. Since, you know, you’re the Melon Lord and all.”

“Even a king has to visit his lowly subjects at times–  _ ow _ . Sheesh, it was a joke Toph.”

He rubs his newly pinched arm with a scowl, but his face softens as he turns towards Katara. His eyes lock with his hers, and suddenly the din of the crowd fades to black, leaving only him.

“Hey, Katara.” 

Her heart’s beating wildly, and she’s not sure why, since a friend shouldn’t make her feel  _ alive _ , not like this.

“Hey, Zuko,” she breathes, the words so strangely heavy, and she watches over his shoulder as Aang and Toph conveniently choose to make themselves lost.

Aang winks at her as he turns away, diving into the crowd of people, and she shifts her gaze back to the firebender, who’s watching her quietly.

The silence between them stretches for another awkward moment or two before Zuko clears his throat. “I– I’m sorry for… interrupting your evening.” He lets out a loose breath. “I just wanted to apologize.”

Katara blanches, raising her eyebrows in genuine confusion. “Apologize for what?”

Zuko gestures his head towards the veranda, and she follows behind him hesitantly, hugging her arms close to her chest. He casts a furtive glance towards his guards, who stand by the entrance dutifully, out of earshot.

When they reach the end of the balcony, he stops and turns to her somberly. “I know you’ve been avoiding me the past few days.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but she can’t find the words to. It’d be so much easier if he wasn’t telling the truth.

He watches her carefully, taking her silence as affirmation. She hates the hurt she sees in his eyes, hates the confusion clearly written on his face, but she doesn’t know what to say.

All she knows is that she wants to hug him.

She wants to hug Zuko, wants to feel the safety of his arms so badly that her heart aches because she knows she doesn’t deserve to hug him, doesn’t deserve this boy of gold and amber and embers. “Zuko...“

He shakes his head slightly, a bittersweet smile on his face. “Look, you don’t have to justify yourself. I’m not asking you of that.” He steps back ever so slightly, and the gulf between them widens. “I just… whatever I did to make this happen, I’m sorry. It’s been killing me these past few days, thinking about what I could have done to make you angry, and I...”

Zuko pauses, seeming to contemplate his next few words. He swallows. “I missed you.”

The world freezes around Katara, and it takes all her strength not to run to him then and there. Her heart seems to be singing, and the butterflies have come back in full force.

_ Say something!  _ her mind screeches.  _ Say something! _

“Zuko…”

His head snaps towards her, the scar illuminated like silver in the moonlight.

“I– I missed you too.” 

He stills, and she forces herself to continue. She looks out beyond the balcony, towards the warmly lit city around the palace. The lights look like fireflies in the night air, and though Katara has spent the entirety of her life hating the Fire Nation, she can’t help but admit how beautiful it is.“You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I should be apologizing.”

Zuko watches her carefully, leaning against the railing of the balcony. “Why do you say that?”

“I wanted to talk to you, but you seemed so busy and…”

“And…?”

She decides then and there that she might as well tell him the truth now. “I was nervous.”

Zuko snorts with a smile. “You? Nervous? Since when?”

The good-natured humor on his face falls as she remains quiet, as he realizes there was no trace of untruth in her statement. The night air grows quiet, as if holding its breath in anticipation of what they’ll say next.

He exhales softly. “Nervous about what?””

She stares down at her shoes, fisting the silken fabric of her dress in her palms. “Nervous about the fact that I can’t seem to get you out of my head.”

Her heart is thundering, and she feels so small under the weight of his gaze, which seems to grow more intense in the moments following her words. 

“Nervous about the chance you might not think the same of me, not with Mai...“

She trails off, waiting for him to say something,  _ anything,  _ but he’s painfully quiet and staring at her with an expression she can’t decipher.

Her chest aches as she backs away, making to leave for the ballroom.  _ What a stupid idea _ . She’s not sure what she thought confessing would do, why she thought he’d reciprocate the sentiment. Maybe it’d been the intoxicating warmth of the night air, the urge to hug him, or the way that he had said  _ I missed you _ that had encouraged her to open up. Her eyes sting, but as she walks away she hears Zuko speak.

“Mai and I aren’t together anymore,” he says quietly, and she pauses abruptly. “We agreed to stay friends.” 

She turns to look back at him, a little breathless and she debates whether or not to ask him why.

In the end, her curiosity wins out.

“Why?” she asks, refusing to meet his eyes, but then suddenly he’s right there in front of her. The smell of embers fills her nostrils, and she meets his gaze, startled.

He’s beautiful in the moonlight, which seems ironic since he’s a firebender. The silver cuts shadows against his cheekbones, against the contours of his face.

Her throat seems to close up as he reaches out a hand to pull a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and she’s hyper aware of the way his fingers linger by her head, of the soft way he’s looking at her.

He shrugs smally, smiling. “We both caught feelings for other people.”

She opens her mouth in surprise, her heart soaring with hope–

And then he’s kissing her.

_ Warm _ .

It’s how she feels inside as his lips move against hers, as his hand cups her jaw gently, reverently.

She kisses back with just as much fervor, the mounting anxiety of the past few days washing away with each passing second. Her mind is spinning, her heart racing, and she’s not sure which way is up and which way is down– but she smiles.

Smiles so broadly that he pulls back ever so slightly, smiling too, and she thinks it might just be the most radiant thing she’s ever seen.

Katara thinks of everything she’s been through with him– of Yon Rha, the Agni Kai, the hours they’ve spent on Appa just  _ talking _ to each other, sharing their hopes and fears and dreams.

And she wonders why she never kissed him sooner.

Because hugging him?

Hugging him is great.

But kissing him?

Kissing him is even better, and she thinks as much as she laughs, moving to kiss him again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, the end! sorry it took forever to update; it was hard for me to finish this story since I wasn’t sure how I wanted to finish it, and I did a pretty bad job of planning out the plot. I just sort of let the story write itself since I was busy with other projects, but in the end I’m happy that I finished it. I hope u all enjoyed it :)


End file.
